


Forgiven but not forgotten

by justreaderr



Series: Rhûnon [2]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Council Meeting, Gen, New Elvenrealm, Second Age
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 22:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8178583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justreaderr/pseuds/justreaderr
Summary: Year 20 - Second Age Maglor entered the council chamber where the twelve most argumentative elves in existence waited for him already.





	

Year 20 - Second Age

Maglor stretched his limbs and rose from his desk. If there had been one thing he had not quite missed in his time without any immediate followers and without a realm to dwell in and be responsible for, it was paperwork. 

They had spent nearly two decades building as of yet and their city was still a far cry from finished, yet his desk was hardly to be found beneath all those requests and ideas and notices. Whoever had decided that paper was to be made a priority should be punished. He snored amused, well, that had been his decision.

Wandering out of his wooden hut he looked around. Everywhere were elves working tirelessly. Some brought stones to pave the streets that would allow them to move easier through the forest, others were busy marking the layouts of the houses and walls they would erect. Looking up in the treetops he could see others tying ropes to build bridges between finished treehouses. Once they were finished this would surely be the most chaotic city ever build by noldorin hand, but then again maybe that was good, while Tirion had been a great city it could be quite dreadfully boring there especially during the time when Finwë had enforced a truce upon his father and uncle.

Well, he had a feeling that boredom would not be easily found among his ragtag group of followers. He evaded two elflings carrying huge baskets to bring food to the workers and started to move towards the place in the very centre of their city where they were building some sort of palace that currently housed the hall where the council met.

Ruling the first few years with a council was - especially in regard of the planning of a city that was to house three different elven tribes - quite useful, but it took a very long time to reach a decision and tried his patience quite direly. 

Obviously the reason why elves chose but one ruler was founded on much wisdom; otherwise they would get nothing important done any time soon. After all the more councillors one had, the more opinions how to do something one got as well. Nevertheless he had made the decision to form the council, not just to give the Sindar and Greenelves a fair hearing and opportunity to decide with them how to form their new home, but to make up for his lack of experience.

He had been a prince his whole life surly and had spent his fair among of time in Finwë’s council, but never for his own merit. When his father could not or wanted not to be there then Nelyo would replace him, and only when his elder brother would not go either, then he would be sent. That he had managed to gain some experience there was probably owed to Nolofinwë alone. His uncle had been far too dutiful to miss court sessions and so would leave Findekáno ample spare time which his cousin preferred to spent with Nelyo far away from the court.

And in later years he had been a warlord and even during the few peaceful years they had been constantly on edge ready to pounce on any enemy coming their way. Now was the first time he had to actually proof himself as a good lord. Being a commander was easy, but being a king? Only time would tell.

He entered the chamber where the twelve most argumentative elves in existence waited for him already. Once he became king their number would shrink a bit, to leave him with only eight councillors, but for now twelve it was.

Five of them were Noldor, not quite as many as there should be, after all Noldor made up the vast majority within their new realm, but with his own vote and even just one councillor more they could effectively decide everything on their own, making the others all but redundant. Four Sindar and three Greenelves completed their number and Maglor himself obviously bringing them to thirteen as a whole.

At his side he kept of course his friend Belegron, who albeit would leave the council once he was crowned and take up the guard.

Himhirlin was there as well and would remain on the council to speak on behalf of their army.

The other three Noldor were Dorinhil, a craftsman and strong fighter for the noldorin way of building a city, which left him arguing for hours with some of the sindarin and greenelven councillors. Galadhim, the healer and Borogon, the bane of his existence - an elf born and bred for Turukáno’s court and the greatest stickler for rules and traditions ever born – surpassing even Maglor’s cousin, who after all ran away to build his very own city hidden away from his kin just so he could finally eradicate all the wrong think and forge the perfect society he had always envisioned.

Another constant bother was Celinduil, the sindarin councillor from Doriath who – so Maglor had learned rather soon – had not been born but awoke with the very first elves and drew quite some superiority from this fact. He also was notoriously distrustful of his new lord, albeit Maglor did not know if it was in a hateful or merely careful manner and the comparatively young prince would have to prove himself to this one over and over again. Also he seemed to enjoy riling up the Feanorian Noldor and thus turning peaceful council sessions into shouting matches.

Compared to him Sorinlindë, a sindarin elleth was quite agreeable. She kept quiet most of the time and only spoke if they were speaking on matters she truly cared for. Those matters seemed to concern her craft foremost. She was a weaver and passionate tailor and saw no point in postponing establishing a guild and start gathering the supplies and tools to start their work, after all they had founded their realm so there was absolutely no reason to run around in filthy and torn garments like a bunch of savages.

Mablung, who for now would also serve the council while building up the border guard together with Belegron, which he would be responsible for once Maglor was crowned, was another calm elf who did not argue, but sided all too often with Celinduil.

The last Sinda was Landor, a loremaster from Doriath who was arguing tirelessly against combining their knowledge in one library accessible to all and joint schooling of the young ones, instead he preferred to only allow the parents to teach their elflings. Thankfully everyone else deemed that stupid and downright unfair to the Greenelves who had not spent as much time as the Noldor or Sindar holed up in their little safe heavens to collect knowledge, also it would be detrimental to horde one’s kin’s knowledge and not share it to their benefit.

The Greenelves were Filwin, an elder archer and hunter who would remain on the council and Talin and Lathiel, two rather young elves with no experience to call their own, but a vast number of sometimes quite ridiculous ideas. They all had been very quiet and uncertain at the first few meetings and had only gotten used to arguing their positions with time, but had challenged Landor passionate unwilling to allow the other people to horde away their knowledge and keep the Greenelves in the dark.

But all in all the Greenelves caused the least problems for Maglor. The Noldoprince dropped down on his chair and eyed the other elves one after the other, then began, “Very well then, if I am not mistaken we wanted to discuss the defences along our border we want to set up.”

“Indeed, once we have completed the walls and towers we should start to build flets for the borderguard to stay overnight.”, Mablung nodded, “That way we can cover far more ground and keep our borders safer.”

“We have not yet even found an indication that anyone even lives within a hundred miles radius of us.” Sorinlindë argued “There is no need to waste time and resources on for now unimportant matters. We should rather turn our attention on acquiring plants and sheep to set up our weaver-guilt. The nights and especially the winters are cold and the winds harsh. We cannot continue on burying us and especially the young ones under mountains of tattered and ripped clothes to not freeze.”

“We are elves; we can tolerate far lower temperatures than this. We will see to comfort, but not ere we have assured everyone’s safety.” Belegron supported the Sindarin warrior in his request.

“I for one would prefer a nice cloak as well” Landor said coolly, “We sit on an army of ancient warriors, so I am sure there is no enemy, who can endanger our existence here. Sorinlindë is right, we live here for more than two decades already yet ran around in the same clothes we brought with us. The elflings are rapidly outgrowing their leggings and tunics and the rest spends every evening closing the hole they have ripped in theirs from a hard day of work.”

“That is true. We are building a realm here not a fortress, my lord. Our priorities should be on creating a home and not preparing for a war that might never come. After all no one knows of our existence.” Borogon argued. 

“Yet should the enemy be upon us weavers will aid us not at all. And secrecy only protects so far, you of above everyone else here should know this, Borogon of Gondolin.”, Himhirlin said calmly. “We can only assure a peaceful and prospering realm if we can trust that the borderguard can do their duty and finds and keeps everything hostile at bay.”

“We are not arguing that it is not important, and we will build whatever we need there in time, but for now there are other things that we should priorities.” Landor stated angrily.

Maglor sighed quietly, obviously this debate would dwindle down into a shouting match soon, if not something was done soon, so he cleared his throat, and all eyes turned to him, “May I suggest a compromise? If I see the situation correctly the Greenelves have almost finished building their treehouses, so we can send them to start building the first fleets on crucial waypoints and Lady Sorinlindë can collect her helpers to start that guild of hers as well. I assume many of them will be Sindarin ellith anyway.”

“We will go and build these flets gladly, my lord, our houses are all but finished and some of the ellith and elflings will be able to complete the rest easily on their own.” Filwin agreed readily, obviously not keen on another heated argument either.

“A far greater protection would it offer to us all, if the other elves were trained in the arts of war as well”, Celinduil interrupted, “If anything were to happen we would have to rely on and trust entirely in the noldorin warriors.”

As one Belegron and Himhirlin turned to him, and Belegron asked angrily “What are you implying?”

“Nothing” the Sindar answered with calm detachment. “I am merely pointing out facts. It would be wiser to start training the rest as well.”

“And when do you propose we do this? In the evening, when everyone is tired from carrying stones and only longs for his bed?” Himhirlin demanded.

“The sooner the better, after all it had been the downfall of Doriath, Sirion and Gondolin that the vast majority did not know how to wield a sword. The right ones might have died then.”

“Just you wait, you little rat.” Belegron hissed and made to rise, but Maglor grapped for his arm in the last moment and held him back.

“Calm, my friend.”

“Did you hear what he just said?”

“I am not deaf. But we will not argue this just now. For today we have only the matter of the fleets on our agenda and this we will decide. Are we clear?”

“Understood.” The warrior grumbled and dropped back on his chair.

Satisfied the elvenprince turned his attention onto Celinduil who eyes him coolly, “And on your matter. We might start to train those who are interested in learning to fight, but not now. If you feel that you can’t trust me and mine, you are free to leave. I am forcing no one to stay, where he does not want to be.”

“This is not what I implied, my lord” the Sindar hurried to correct, “I merely ...”

“You merely sought to create more discord in this council. You are fond of speaking of your great experience, knowledge and wisdom, yet you are constantly demonstrating that you have neither. If you do not want to sit here and help building this realm you are also free to go. I am sure I will find someone actually caring to replace you with.”

The sindarin councillor hesitated for a moment then bowed to Maglor and said, “Forgive me, hir nin, I will endeavour to better my conduct.”

The Noldo eyed him in search for honesty, but then nodded satisfied. “Very well. Does anyone disagree with the idea that the Greenelves will start to build some essential flets?” when no one spoke up the prince nodded satified, “Very well then. Filwin, you will go with Mablung, Belegron and Himhirlin to check over the map let them tell you where the fleets will be need most direly. Sorinlindë you may go and ask around for those who wish to aid you, while you, Celinduil, will come with me for a moment. The rest can resume their duties.”

Maglor waited until the rest had emptied the council chamber and then signed Celinduil to come with him. “Walk with me for a moment, councillor.”

They walked through their half-finished city, climbed over the low wall of a house and continued down to the water's edge of the lake, leaving the other elves behind.

Once they were half a mile away from the settlement Maglor finally asked, “What is your problem, Lord Celinduil? Is it my people, I or something else entirely? You do not make the impression to me as if you want to be here at all. That leaves me with the question, why you have come with us?”

The older elf remained quiet for a long while, staring out to the sea lost in thought. Then finally he sighed, “I want to be here.”

Which caused Maglor to raise an eyebrow. “Indeed? I have serious doubts that this is true.”

“No, I speak truthful. I want to be here, I just feel that ...” he eyed Maglor hard for a moment and then lowered his head again wearily. “I feel it is not right to forgive and forget so easily. I have lost everyone dear to me in the second kinslaying. My mate, my elfling, most of my friends and my king. I just can’t pretend it never happened, I thought I could forgive, but I just can’t and I feel so alone with this, for the rest is most eager to move on and let the past go.”

“I cannot force you to forgive and I will not attempt to do so, but I assure you it will never be forgotten.” the Noldo remarked calmly, “It is burned into my Fae just as much as it is into yours. But the time has not and will not come to a standstill, no matter what tragedy strikes us. Life goes on and it is for us to decide whether we will clinch to fond and comfortable hate or if we move on with our life. There is nothing to gain from trying to horde your hate and distrust, but aversion and weariness. You vowed yourself to me, just as everyone else here, but if you are unable or unwilling to fit in, I will not hold you to you vow and it might be reasonable in the long run to find a way to bring you to another realm for the benefit of both sides.”

They walked for many miles without another word lost between them and Maglor started to consider loosely how they could accomplish bringing an elf safely back to the west, to dwell among other elves, which seemed nearly impossible. They had only very few horses and the councillor would need an escort to be safe. 

Lost in thought the Noldo did not even notice immediately that Celinduil had stopped and turned to him, it took him until the Sinda finally started to speak to stop in his tracks. “You speak wisely, my prince, there is nothing to gain by being a bother and fuelling discord. It will only dishonour the memories of my beloved and taint them with hate. I do not want this and I don't want to leave, neither this land nor your service. I will keep my conflict to myself and will strife to learn forgivingness. With time it might come.”

Somewhat relieved Maglor nodded, “With time it might come.” Hopefully.


End file.
